


Darkiplier: But I Want To Stay Here...

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkiplier: But I Want To Stay Here...

**Author's Note:**

> Let me stay...

He doesn’t scare him.  
He doesn’t frighten him.  
The only thing he does do is give him falseness.  
A false security. A false mindset. A false self.  
Every time he turns on his camera, his game, he feels as if he’ll become false. And the other one will take his place.  
Nothing much had happened before. Glitched cameras, blackouts, things he doesn’t mean to do, but does anyway.  
But he feels as if he may survive.  
“Hello, everybody!” he says towards his live audience through a camera. “Let’s see, so this is the monthly livestream you’ve all been wanting. Like always, I set up a cool charity page if you want to donate. I sent out a Tweet earlier, so show your friends!” He takes a look at the live chat. “Is it, is the camera slow? No? Okay, okay.”  
He takes a fifteen minute interval to let everyone arrive to the stream.  
“Okay, looks like we’re good,” he grins. “So let’s get started! We are playing, today, Mario Maker, because so many of you,” he elicits a chuckle, “desperately requested me to play this game both for videos and on this stream. You can feel free to send me codes through, uh... Through Twitter, and who knows? Might play a few!” He gives a shrug and begins the game.  
In an hour, he feels something.  
“Oh, jeez, sorry,” he apologises after a few coughs. “Might be getting a little sick, didn’t feel too good earlier.” He points to the camera. “But that don’t mean I can’t stream!”  
In five minutes, he feels it again.  
“Oh- Oh, Jesus,” he curses after a large coughing fit. “Probably getting sick, yeah.” He coughs loud and long again. He looks at his inner elbow.  
He sees blood.  
He’s unfased.  
“Yeah, okay, I’m good,” he nods, and continues playing.  
He feels something in his throat immediately. He sees the chat telling him to take five minutes, but he refuses.  
“Hey, I’m fine-” he begins to say before he convulses forward, holding his stomach as contents from it begin to spill out of his mouth onto the floor.  
Once it’s over, he ignores it.  
The chat tells him to stop streaming.  
He doesn’t pay attention to it.  
“Yes, I finished the level!” he says triumphantly as he pumps a fist into the air. He looks at the chat. “There’s nothing wrong with my face, come on.” His hand raises to his cheek, where a substantial amount of pus and blood ooze out from a large wound.  
He doesn’t care.  
He scratches at it. Skin peels.  
He removes the skin and drops it.  
“All better, you guys happy?” he asks his audience. Half of them are leaving. The other half stays.  
He wipes his face. Blood streaks across his nose and mouth. More leave. A select hundred stay.  
“It’s a joke?” he asks as he reads the chat.  
He feels him coming.  
But I want to stay here, Mark.  
I don’t want to feel false.  
I want to survive...


End file.
